


Ex-Friends Til' The End

by missred



Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, The Academy Is...
Genre: Fever, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sickfic, gabilliam - Freeform, only teen for language, prompt 3, seriously guys it's all fluff, sick!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-19
Updated: 2014-08-19
Packaged: 2018-02-13 20:27:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2164113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missred/pseuds/missred
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gabe is not usually a clumsy drunk. Will didn't believe they were better off as lovers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ex-Friends Til' The End

Gabe was about eight shots into a great night at Pete’s when he sees William.

They hadn’t spoken in months. There was no major blowout, just busy schedules and a relationship that they (Will) had decided wasn’t working. They were better as friends anyway. That’s what Will had said. And Gabe agreed. They were fucking great as friends. He just wanted them to be friends who went home together at the end of the night.

“Fucking Pete Wentz.” Gabe thinks without much venom. It was Pete’s fault, probably. He knew about the split.  Will looks great. He’s laughing at something some asshole that isn’t Gabe said, holding a red solo he’ll probably nurse all night ‘cause Will never comes to these things just to get shitfaced.

Gabe doesn’t either, usually. Pete’s parties have always been Grade A, and he can get hammered _and_ socialize marvelously. Gabe is an excellent multitasker. Tonight though, looking at Will from the doorway to the kitchen, Gabe decides he’s not nearly drunk for this, and he’s socialized enough for tonight.

___________________________________________________

One shitty beer, two solo cups of punch, and too many shots to care later, Gabe decides it’s a good idea to find Will. He’d spent most of the night purposely _not_ finding Will, kissing any girl and a few guys that would let him, to avoid seeing those spidery fingers and skinny boy smile. But now, as the last stragglers wave goodbye to a grinning Pete, seeing Will is a really, really, good idea, one Gabe plans on executing immediately. He doesn’t count having feeling in his legs as crucial to this endeavor.  He thinks Pete might have tried to call him a cab a while ago, and he isn’t even sure Will’s still there, but he staggers out of the upstairs bathroom anyways. It’s dark in the hall as the party was mostly confined to downstairs, but Gabe had to piss. He’s weaving his way down the stairs when his vision blacks and the stairs disappear.The last thing he remembers is thinking Pete has a really nice carpet.

___________________________________________________ 

Gabe wakes up with a hangover that should be illegal and _shit_ fuck he aches. When he regains the ability to peel his eyes open, he freezes. Gabe knows this bed. The spotless white sheets that and the pillows that are always just the right size for sleeping. The duvet smells like Will.

“He lives.”

Gabe bolts straight up and lets out a string of cuss words because _fuck_ his shoulder hurts and Will is _right there_.

“ _El pendejo_.”

“I heard that. Not feeling so great without all the booze, are you? Stay still.” Will jumped out of the chair in the corner and pushed Gabe back onto the bed, careful to avoid his shoulder. Gabe still hissed when it hit the mattress.

“How did I get here?”

“I drove.”

Gabe rolled his eyes.

“Okayyy…but why did you drive me here?”

“Because you were blackout drunk and Bronx is coming to stay with Pete today. Someone had to make sure you didn't choke on your own vomit.”

“Will, I could’ve gotten home fine.”

“Gabe,” Will responded in the same careful, flat, tone, “You fell down the stairs at Pete’s house. You’re not doing anything on your own until you get checked out.”

“I didn’t--” Gabe stopped and winced as Will pressed gently down where his arm joined his shoulder.

“You did. I called ahead this morning, you have an appointment in Glendale in two hours.”

“You don’t have to do this.”

Will offered him a sad little smile.

“We’re still friends, Gabe. Friends can help.”

___________________________________________________

An hour later, Will is loading Gabe into the passenger seat and turning onto the 5 south to Glendale. The more time he spends conscious, the more shitty Gabe feels.  His shoulder is a dull, constant ache, but everything else hurts too. Gabe makes a mental note to avoid stairs while intoxicated. He’s not really paying attention when Will leads him into the doctor’s office and steers him towards a seat. It takes his brain about fifteen minutes to catch up and wonder if he should check in. He stops when he realizes Will’s already done it. Gabe doesn’t want to think about what it means that Will still has a copy of his insurance card.

The doctor’s kind of a prick. He asks some stupid questions about Gabe’s throat (sore, but he’d been partying the night before, it wasn’t unusual for him). His muscles (Aching, but he fell down the stairs, of course they did). And yeah, Gabe’s tired. He’s hungover. The doctor disregards all of Gabe’s totally valid explanations and sticks a thermometer in his mouth. The numbers read 101. Gabe thinks his thermometer is broken. He spews some bullshit about Gabe having “the influenza virus” (which Gabe doesn’t believe) and about how he should take it easy on the shoulder for a couple of weeks (which Gabe chooses to ignore). He even gives him a shoulder brace and calls Will in to show him how to help Gabe strap it on. Gabe is seriously considering homicide when the uptight dickwad makes some kind of mumbled comment about “supportive partners.” Gabe goes stiff, but Will relaxes, grabs his hand, smiles at the asshole, and drags him out.

“What the _fuck_ was that?” Gabe shouted the minute they reached the car.

“Calm down, he was trying to be nice.”

“That guy wouldn’t know nice if it walked up and bit him in his flat, white, _culo_.”

“Ughh. You’re impossible.” Will retorted. Gabe tries very hard not to think about the fake-exasperated way he said it.

 **______________** **_____________________________________**  

Will pulls up in front of Gabe’s apartment and Gabe scrambles out. He tosses a muttered “Thanks for everything” and bolts. He ditches the brace as soon as he gets inside and cranks the AC because Jesus Christ, his apartment is hot. After 40 minutes, he can’t stand to sit around anymore, so he grabs his keys and heads out. It’s even hotter at the shopping center, and Gabe finds himself wandering into a Ralph’s just for the AC. He stands in the frozen food aisle for 20 minutes before someone asks him if he needs any help. Gabe gulps, and shakes his head. When did his head start pounding like this?

“Hey man, you okay? Is there someone I should call?”

And Gabe shakes his head again because there isn’t anybody _to_ call, and he’ll be fine as soon as the room stops spinning. Gabe is leaning against the ice cream fridge with his head between his knees when Will shows up. He never changed his emergency contact.

Gabe mumbles out something that is either “sorry” or “go away”, but Will doesn’t look pissed, and he’s definitely not going anywhere. He sighs and helps Gabe to his feet. They make their way to the car with Gabe’s head on Will’s shoulder, Will supporting his weight while carefully avoiding his injured side. Will loads Gabe into the car for the second time that day. Once he’s buckled, the questions begin.

“What hurts? Where’s your brace? How did you get here?”

“Everything. At home. Drove.” Gabe is dangerously close to whining. He doesn’t care.

There are no more questions and the back seat of Will’s Honda Civic is surprisingly comfortable. Gabe sleeps. He misses the pit stop at his own apartment, Will slipping out of the car and shoving his brace in the front seat. He misses pulling up to Will’s place. He’s not even half conscious until Will is hauling him out of the car and depositing him in bed.

“Whatyaryoudoin..?” he mumbles.

Will is pulling him up from his armpits and handing him a glass of water.

“Take these.” He says, and dumps a handful of pills into Gabe’s hand. Gabe throws them them back in one swig and and tries to burrow under blankets because he is _freezing_. He doesn’t remember Will’s hand on his forehead before he fell asleep.

___________________________________________________

Gabe wakes up 12 hours later with dry mouth and a stuffed nose. He meanders downstairs with the duvet as a cape and parks himself on Will’s couch. Will is already scribbling in his notebook and marathoning America’s Next Top Model but he’ll always claim it was on cause he lost the remote. Gabe’s head is muzzy and tackling Will seems like a really nice idea but he’s too tired. Instead he stretches out on the couch and tries to avoid fucking up his shoulder.

It’s a peaceful haze that would very pleasant if Gabe didn’t feel so crappy. He’s still pretty content to be half asleep listening to Tyra rant and William humming quietly. Dusk is falling when Gabe opens his eyes again. The tv is off, and Will is nowhere to be found. With a clearer head, Gabe realizes he’s crashed at his ex’s for more than 24 hours. and he’s probably breaking some sort of rule and he should go home. He regretfully sheds the duvet and stumbles to the front door to look for his shoes and his keys. He’s got half a shoe on before he remembers he doesn’t have his car. Gabe mutters an emphatic

“ _Shit_.”

Because he really doesn’t want to call a cab. It’s only been 10 minutes and he already wants to be asleep.

“Going somewhere?”

Will’s at the top of the stairs and his hair is is mussed and he’s wearing the paisley pj pants Gabe convinced him to buy in Cancun and the stupid things actually look _good_ on him and Gabe drops his head against the doorframe and groans because this is just too much. He wasn’t ready for this. Will is at his side in an instant, hand on his good shoulder.

“Hey what’s going on? What hurts?”

Gabe pulls away.

“Just--just stop okay. Please, Will, just stop.”

Will recoils instantly.

“Sorry. I’m. I forgot. You’re not. You’re not mine.”

“And who’s fault is that?” Gabe bit back.

Will paused.

“Gabe. We weren’t working. I saw the way I was holding you back at parties, at shows. I wanted you to be happy. I didn’t know you would cut be out at soon as we stopped--”

Gabe’s mouth dropped, incredulous.

“Are you serious right now? Are you actually fucking serious? William _fucking_ Beckett. I am going to kill you you _estupido loco hombre con la sonrisa del diablo_ …”

Will interrupted.

“What are you on about?”

“You were never holding me back! Of course I like to have fun at parties, let loose at shows, but at the end of the night--Will, there has never been any other person I wanted to go home with more than you.”

Will lets out a breath and a shaky

“Oh.”

And then he’s hugging Gabe hard and long with uncharacteristic fervor and ignoring his shoulder and it _hurts_. Gabe wouldn’t have it any other way.

___________________________________________________

Eventually, Will drags Gabe back to the living room. He hops up as soon as Gabe is safely deposited on the couch and disappears into the kitchen. Gabe’s patience is running low 20 minutes later, and he shouts into the open doorway

“What are you doing? I need your face on my face like, yesterday!”

Will emerges and sets a steaming bowl of soup in front of Gabe.

“I’m not kissing you when you’re sick, nasty.”

Gabe rolls his eyes.

‘William. Will. Bilvy. I am the _picture_ of health. And I’m not eating that.”

He added, gesturing to the bowl on the coffee table.

Will raises an eyebrow and places the back of his hand to Gabe’s forehead, drifting down to his cheek a moment later. He purses his lips.

“Nope. Still sick.”

“You do not know that. That is a mom trick, you’re not a mom.” Gabe complains.

Will is immovable on this front. So Gabe contents himself with cuddling him shamelessly and letting him quietly enjoy cycle 6 of Top Model.

___________________________________________________

Two days later, Will deems Gabe well enough for somewhere that wasn’t the couch or the bed, though he insisted on the cumbersome shoulder brace. Gabe tags along while Will browses Urban Outfitters. He snaps a pic in the mirror and uploads it to instagram.

“Shoulder brace”

The “That sucks!!” and “Sorry man :c” pour in.

But when Will sneaks up and laces his fingers into Gabe’s free hand, Gabe decides he really doesn’t mind that much after all.

**Author's Note:**

> This one is a prompt fill for an anon who wanted any kind of gabilliam. Inspired by these instagram posts:  
> http://instagram.com/p/qUIptbw8Jk/?modal=true  
> http://instagram.com/p/q4ikWtQ8IE/?modal=true  
> even though Gabe's not in an American Outfitters. I had a lot of fun with this one--sorry it took so long!


End file.
